


We Never Had to Sing of Revolution Until Now

by lemere



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, anakin doesn't fuck shit up, the jedi become guerrilla revolutionaries, what could go wrong
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-05-25 13:48:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6197440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemere/pseuds/lemere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Mace Windu pauses, because even in his victory, he’s still lost. Lost his attachment. </p><p>The Republic is done for, and so are the Jedi as he knows them. The claws of the Sith are too deep into this Plan. He didn’t have enough time, enough foresight to fix it all. He knows the Jedi are spread thin, that Shaak Ti’s signal won’t get to enough of them and that there are too many clones to fight. </p><p>In an instant, Mace Windu becomes a fugitive, a rebel, and a revolutionary all at once."</p><p>Anakin doesn't kill Mace, but the Republic still falls, because that's how the story of the Son of Suns has to go. </p><p>Begun from a post I sent phil-the-stone too long ago about how her "trash family AU" begins (the best, go read it) but diverges into my own ideas from there.</p><p>http://phil-the-stone.tumblr.com/post/92884371813/trash-y-origin-sorry-word-vomit</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'm so glad I looked

_“He had been so intent on Palpatine’s shatterpoint that he’d never thought to look for Anakin’s.”_

 

_Palpatine trusts Anakin. Why?_

The Korun master takes a second to let the Force flow back through him. The broken shadow lays at his feet, a purple blade at his throat.

Mace feels hate.

He doesn’t _want_ to, of course. But he does. But even then, Mace’s Jedi training takes over. He knows Palpatine’s shatterpoint. The shatterpoint of the _universe_.

Anakin Skywalker. The Chosen One.

So Mace Windu reins in his hate for the Sithspawn at his feet. He pauses. Takes a moment. The Force washes into him again, wiping exhaustion away. Takes a second moment. Confirms the crystalline structure that binds Palpatine to Anakin. Takes a third, final, all-important moment and turns his inner eye towards Skywalker.

It seems prudent, after all, to know what is most important to the most important man in the universe.

Mace’s breath is taken away by what he can feel, swirling around Anakin. Knot after knot, twisting together strings and fracture lines. He has never seen this before when _looking_ at this boy.

The first realization Mace comes to is that they weren’t wrong, Qui-Gon wasn’t wrong – Skywalker is absolutely the Chosen One. The second is that there are shatterpoints here that reach _centuries_ into the future, maybe even millennia. He doesn’t have time to follow them. There is a war on, after all, and he does have a Sith Lord, _the_ Sith Lord, laying at his feet.

So Mace is pressed for time, and only interested in the shatterpoint that will tip the scale he sees one way or another.

_Why does Palpatine trust Anakin?_

Because he does. The shadow still has no fear, only… anticipation. Mace realizes that the Sith hadn’t been lying when he told the four Masters how long he’d been waiting. He can see Palpatine’s handiwork in every faultline that swirls around Anakin.

But where is it? Where is the one that _Anakin_ cares about…

 _Ah_ , Mace thinks.

He finds it. Finds _her_ , rather.

 _That explains rather a lot,_ he realizes.

In another fraction of a second he finds other things, too. What Palpatine has told the boy. What Anakin is scared of, how Palpatine is controlling him. The dead-star dragon that Anakin has recently lost his battle with, and why.

 _Well, all things_ do _die. But let’s give him a hand with that, at least for now_.

Mace makes a Decision To Tip The Scales, because now Mace is working with _all_ the information and knows it’s the Jedi Code or the Galaxy As We Know It, and really, even for Mace Windu, it’s no choice at all.

So he takes a step back.

And another.

Mace Windu has figured everything out, now; has seen the future of the Republic, of the Jedi, and of the two men in front of him.

One final step. The purple blade shrinks to nothing, but he isn’t foolish enough to put it away. There’s still a Sith Lord in the room, after all.

And now four seconds later, Mace Windu finally speaks.

“I’m not going to kill him, Anakin. The Jedi are not traitors or assassins. I see that now. I see what he told you, why you think you need him.”

The shadow’s sagging, destroyed face burns with renewed hates. Mace thinks in a detached sort of way that this probably wasn’t part of The Plan.

The face howls, because it knows, as well as Mace does, that whoever controls Skywalker controls the fate of the galaxy, and it’s become rather fond of that control, and now neither of them are really sure what’s about to happen. Mace has tapped and chipped at Skywalker’s shatterpoint, tried to help him kill the dead dragon, but in the end, it’s still up to Skywalker how this goes.

So they are both forced to leave it up to the Chosen One.

“You’re not going to kill him…”

“No. He may control the Senate and the Courts, but I am not a murderer like he is.”

Skywalker looks relieved. Then he jolts, almost like he’s waking up.

Mace feels _something_ change, and the shadow does too, and it looks a little less confident than it did a few moments ago.

The dead dragon shrinks back, just a little, and the furnace that is Anakin’s heart cools for the first time since the _Invisible Hand_ crashed to the surface.

And then, for the first time in _decades_ , Mace Windu smiles, because The Decision has been made. Skywalker can deal with the dragon another day, but for now, he steps forward and in one swift movement brings his saber hilt down on the shadow, which sags, unconscious, and resolves itself back into an old man.

Skywalker smiles brightly back at Mace, and behind the dark features Mace is elated.

 _We won_ , he thinks simply.

And then Skywalker frowns, starts to say something, but Mace feels it too, and so they jump out the shattered window together because an entire battalion of clones is running towards the Chancellor’s office, and they no longer feel like the clones Mace has become accustomed to fighting with. As they fall, he glances quickly into the Force and sees something called Order 66 that chills his bones.

Skywalker gestures and his astromech whirrs and brings the speeder into a steep dive, catching them both.

“Anakin…”

“I felt it too. We have to get back to the Temple, warn the Jedi.”

Mace nods mechanically.

_I thought we had done it._

Now, looking back, he supposes it was foolish to think that the sole remaining Dark Lord of the Sith wouldn’t have a back up plan, but Mace decides that there are only so many galaxy-changing shatterpoints he can find per day, and he thinks he can be forgiven for missing _that_ one.

Because, whatever happens, Skywalker is on _their_ side again. Maybe as he’d never been before.

Mace pulls out his comlink, punches in a frequency…

“Master Ti, Skywalker and I are returning to the Temple. The other three are dead. Evacuate the younglings first. Palpatine survived, the clones will turn against us and _soon_. Send out a signal, try to warn as many of us as you can. He’s still going to take control the Republic.”

 Even from this distance, he can sense her confusion, and he cuts off the forthcoming question.

“There’s no _time_. Just get the younglings out and send that signal. Because…”

And Mace Windu pauses, because even in his victory, he’s still lost. Lost his attachment.

The Republic is done for, and so are the Jedi as he knows them. The claws of the Sith are too deeply sunk into this Plan. He didn’t have enough time, enough foresight to fix it all. He knows the Jedi are spread thin, that Shaak Ti’s signal won’t get to enough of them and that there are too many clones to fight.

In an instant, Mace Windu becomes a fugitive, a rebel, and a revolutionary all at once.

“Because we’ve still lost the Republic.”

“ _Understood, Master. We won’t be able to get everyone out in time. The signal’s sent, but I don’t know how many will get it in time.”_

“Do the best you can. Prioritize the younglings and the Holocrons. We need to get the evac ships into hyperspace before clones start shooting them down. The regroup can happen later.” _I hope_ , he thinks.

He’s been so focused on this he hadn’t noticed where Skywalker was taking them, and now he realizes they’ve stopped, and they’re not at the Temple.

“Skywalker, where… what are we doing here?”

“My wife…” Anakin replies, a bit distractedly.

“There’s no time, we need you protecting those evac ships!”

For a horrible second, Mace thinks he may have said the wrong thing, may have pushed Skywalker back over the edge, back the _other_ way (after all, she was how Palpatine controlled him), but he needn’t have worried. It seems once Skywalker has made a Decision, the decision is Well And Truly Made.

“You’re right. We should…”

And then she’s _there_ , hopping into the speeder, very, _very_ pregnant, and C-3PO is behind her, and Anakin is asking, “How did you know?” and Mace is very aware that the Force, even in these trying times, has a bit of a sense of humor because Senator Amidala merely replies “I had a hunch.”

Mace is briefly annoyed that the Jedi did not find this one before she found politics.

The speeder screams off towards the Temple.

“Master Windu, I believe you’ve met Senator Padmé Amidala of Naboo, but I don’t believe you’ve officially met my wife.”

Mace thinks, _of course_  and says “It’s a pleasure, Padmé.”

She looks confused and shocked her husband is suddenly being so forthcoming, but shrugs and smiles dazzlingly at him before shooting a questioning glance at her husband.

Anakin quirks a smile at Mace, shrugs, and says “It’s a long story.”

Some part of Mace thinks that if the galaxy weren’t in the hands of a madman, the situation would be downright _hilarious_.

Here he is, the Master of the Jedi Order, with the Chosen One and his secret wife who isn’t really a secret anymore who is pregnant with twins (Mace is interested in that detail), on the run from a government and a man that until about four minutes ago was the Galactic Republic and is about to start hunting and killing Jedi just as fast as it can.

Funny, in a depressing and morbid sort of way.

So not too long after Mace Windu smiled for the first time in decades, he gives a little grunt that sounds almost like a chuckle and thinks _well that’s enough of that_ and returns his thoughts to saving as many Jedi as possible, because Chosen One or no, he thinks that Jedi are going to be very important in the coming rebellion.

They _finally_ arrive at the Temple and the evacuation is going as well.

Mace is, for a short moment, grateful that there are so few Jedi right now, because at least that’s making the evacuation go faster. Amidala is ushered into a shuttle, and Shaak Ti tells him that three-fourths of the younglings are safely into hyperspace, along with the Holocrons. Skywalker is running to his fighter, Artoo behind him. Mace heads toward his own, because he and Anakin have sensed the same thing.

Across the galaxy, Jedi are starting to die, and the clones that feel _wrong_ now are coming towards the Temple with murderous intent. Other Masters have sensed it and are running for their own fighters.

Because however many Jedi are dying across the galaxy, the younglings will _not_ be joining them, and the grim determination in all of them, from Skywalker to Shaak Ti to Cin Drallig, is exactly the same. The last of the younglings are hurried into the last of the shuttles, and Mace takes the last of his spare moments to stare at a child, no more than two years old. The child is scared, but all of her trust has been placed in the Knight that is ushering her into the ship, and her fear is under control.

Mace realizes that her trust is similar to the trust the Republic placed in the Jedi.

One failure is enough today, he thinks, and he feels Skywalker agree. He feels Skywalker’s thermonuclear heart start up again, but this time, instead of fear, it’s powered by love, and the sheer _power_ Skywalker exudes is breathtaking.

Mace tears his gaze away from the child and hops into his fighter, starts it up, and follows that power into the sky.

Mace Windu, Master of the recently decimated Jedi Order, thinks to himself that he may _be_ Master and Head of the Council, but that he’s willing to follow Skywalker just about anywhere, and then he thinks that however many Jedi die in Order 66, however long it may take, with that power on their side, Palpatine really doesn’t stand a chance.

Except that… he does. He’s still the leader of the Galactic Republic, or the husk that it’s become. He still preprogrammed millions of clones to kill Jedi, and they are doing their damnedest.

Mace is trying very hard to concentrate on the furious dogfight above Coruscant’s skies, trying to make sure each and every shuttle full of precious Jedi children gets away, but he must admit it’s difficult when every few seconds, the light of the Force gets collectively dimmer after a flare of pain.

Jedi are still dying across the galaxy.

His cannons flare, and Skywalker is ripping ships out of the air left and right, and somewhere, he can feel Master Yoda, still alive, still fighting, Master Kenobi racing towards Coruscant, but he’s also felt Plo Koon burn and vaporize, Aayla Secura fall with blaster wounds in her back.

Tears obscure his eyesight for a moment as another ARC fighter explodes in front of him.

A shuttle vanishes above him in a haze of light, the children joining the Force with screams.

“Anakin… we can’t keep this up for long.”

No time for emotion. There is no passion, there is serenity. Even now, he turns to the Code, in its imperfections and frailty. It is still all he knows.

He hates it, for the first time in his life. 

A Jedi does not feel hate. 

 _“I know, Master.”_ Anakin sounds as distraught as he feels. “ _They’re almost all through though. Just a moment more. Obi-Wan and Yoda are still alive. Most of the younglings too. Still hope…”_

His voice trails off as another shuttle explodes in a beautiful fire-shower, particles slowly expanding in Coruscanti space.

The remaining shuttles climb higher and higher, breaking away from the atmosphere and surrounding by fighters. Almost to hyperspace. Mace focuses on what he can still do. Those children live in the Force, and he calls on their strength.

(Later, much later, when the Clone Battalions become the Stormtrooper Corps, the original pilots will tell their trainees about the day the Jedi escaped. They will speak of the ferocity and the terrifying, cold rage they could almost _feel_ as the clone pilots tried to murder children, and the Jedi fought back. Do not threaten Jedi children, they will say. A Jedi does not know peace, or serenity, or harmony when you threaten a Jedi child. New pilots are taught that if you see a purple or gold fighter, best to point your craft in a different direction)

Finally, _finally_ , the last of the shuttles are away, and Mace does not have time to thank the Force for the recent attack that decimated the Coruscanti Defense Force before he jumps as well, a random jump he told his astro droid to make. They’ll rendezvous later. Each shuttle, he knows, will spend hours making micro jumps to throw off the cruisers that will undoubtedly follow.

The Sithspawn’s plan didn’t work, and he’ll spend an inordinate amount of resources fixing that little problem. Mace sends a brief comm in the Jedi’s secret code – no details, he can’t be sure Palpatine doesn’t know it – reminding everyone to be safe, be careful, we’ll make contact later, and then lets his droid take over.

He needs to rest and to grieve.

And plan.

This is Mace Windu: fugitive, outlaw, rebel, and revolutionary.


	2. all's lost not yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mace plans, Yoda thinks, Obi-Wan and Anakin are... well, Obi-Wan and Anakin.

Hours later, he wakes from his trance, rested. He has not grieved, only catalogued the losses he felt. He has merely the beginnings of a plan. Not enough. He hopes it will be enough.

He sinks into the Force, feels a tug he hopes isn’t Palpatine, and orders his droid to make one last jump…

And there they are. All the shuttles. What feels like most of the remaining Jedi in the Galaxy, in fact. Floating in space, above a desert planet. He checks the navcomp. Tatooine.

He nearly rolls his eyes. The Force can have an overdeveloped sense of dramatic irony. But it has gathered the last of the Jedi, and he is grateful.

“ _Master Windu, I am... grateful to see you’re still with us.”_ Kenobi’s exhaustion softens his normally clipped and formal accent. “ _I managed to escape Cody on Utapau.”_

Mace searches space for Kenobi’s red fighter, finds it, wonders how he managed, then remembers why he sent Kenobi in the first place and stops wasting time on foolish questions.

“ _Indeed. Grateful we all are, that seen fit to gather us here, the Force has. But stay long, we cannot. A gathering of the Force this size, Palpatine will sense. Until we have a plan, scatter we must.”_

A murmuring of assent runs through both the Force and his comm system. Mace remembers the beginnings of the plan he’d conceived, and starts with the logistics.

“I agree. It may be some time before we see each other again. Youngling shuttles, do we have a total headcount? How many of the youngest age group?”

“ _Eighteen that are two. Thirty-nine are three, eighty-seven are four, and we have, ah, twenty-three five year olds. Above that, total, about three hundred other Padawan-aged individuals, running up to mid-twenties. Older than that, we could conceivably send off them alone. If we had to.”_

Shaak Ti clearly doesn’t like that option. She’d rather they stay in groups of at least two. So would he, but it’s not really an option.

“Yoda, Obi-Wan, Anakin, Yoda, do we have a headcount of individuals that could care for children? Train them, in the event our rendezvous and the formation of a rebellion is some time off?”

“ _Formation of… a rebellion?”_

_“Don’t be daft, Anakin, of course a rebellion. We are still Jedi. The galaxy will need us.”_

Yoda’s chuckle can be heard by all.

“ _Two hundred fifty eligible Jedi, Windu,”_ he says. “ _Together, some will need to stay, till healed, their wounds are._ ”

“I think that permanent groups would be fine. We need to find a balance. Too large, and we’re easier to catch. Too small, we’re easier to… kill if we’re caught.”

Kenobi’s voice takes on a pensive quality. _“Those that can pose as families should. Those more comfortable in cities should stay in smaller groups, perhaps one master to one or two Padawans. No younglings on the more populated planets. We could probably risk larger groups in the Outer Rim.”_

Again, assent ripples through the small fleet.

_“Then land on the planet, we will, and divide up.”_

Yoda’s word is final, but not the final word.

Skywalker breaks through. _“Wait! We can’t land anywhere close to a city. I know this planet, it’s a hive of scum and villainy. We can’t resupply here or be seen, or we’ll be given away if Palpatine comes looking here. Can’t take that risk. I don’t want to give him anything we don’t have to. Land here”_ – coordinates blink on Mace’s navcomp – “ _and we’ll make it fast. Everyone can resupply elsewhere separately. We’ll only be on planet here an hour or so. If you’re running extremely low on fuel, you may be able to sneak into one of the ports for a refuel. This sector is mostly Separatist, don't go to any other planets.”_

Shaak speaks now, asking about the Holocrons and other treasures that were evacuated. Mace feels Yoda pause. Keep them together, or split them, prevent the loss of one and risk the loss of all?

_“On my ship, load all the Holocrons. Find me, when needed for training, they are.”_

“We’ll sell the treasures that aren’t Force Relics and give the credits to the Masters who are caring for the youngest children. They’ll have less freedom of movement and of work. Anything else?”

“ _We’ve done enough planning. Time to land and split. We’ll work out new secret communications on the way. I don’t want us feeling alone.”_

And at Kenobi’s word, the fleet moves as one towards the barren surface.

 

Tatooine is very, very hot. Mace is used to humid and hot. He was an old Padawan, and he remembers Korun well. His quarters at the Temple – he stumbles at that thought, knows by now it’s only a burning husk – were kept warm and humid, too.

But Tatooine is dry, and far hotter than anything he’s ever experienced before.

Skywalker chuckles at the near-universal discomfort of the surrounding Jedi – around a thousand, all told. Only a few are as used to **hot** as he is.

But they wipe the sweat away and continue their duties. The youngest of the children are being fed and cared for, divvied up already among the Masters that will take them. The middle-aged Padawans are unnerved, but not overly so; they have faith in the Masters they still find intimidating. They are still not aware of what caused the Force-pain they’ve felt over the past day.

The older Padawans, some already assigned to Masters that are fortunately still alive, those that _understand_ , are truly frightened.

Mace swells with pride as he feels them breath through their fear, help each other control it. The Force is still with them.

The work goes on, Holocrons and relics loaded onto Yoda’s ship, sellable items given to those will need the credits the most. Everything goes according to plan, and the first ship is prepping to leave when a fighter screams down through the atmosphere. Mace looks up in concern, then feels who it is.

He thinks that his recent emotional trauma is probably responsible for all the smiling he’s been doing lately.

The fighter twists and turns into a landing that would have turned _any_ other pilot – except for Skywalker himself – into fiery vapor, but then, Skywalker did teach Ahsoka Tano almost everything she knows.

The hatch pops, and Mace really must do something about all these _feelings_ because he’s never been so glad to see someone in his life.

“Master Windu! Oh thank the Force, you’re okay, I wasn’t sure, I just kept feeling Jedi _dying_ and then the Force sort of made me come here and…”

She trails off, stopped by his raised hand.

“I know, Ahsoka. I know.” And Mace Windu hugs her, because that’s what he feels like he should do, and he decides he doesn’t really mind and should maybe start learning more about these emotions.

The Force swells a little bit more, and not for the first time, Mace is reminded that Ahsoka is incredibly powerful, and they are lucky she does not harbor any more bitterness over the… situation… with Barriss. Which he supposes he should apologize for. Again.

“Ahsoka, I know how you feel about the Jedi. I’m sorry, for the… well, you were right, after all. We served politics, not the Force, and now we’re here because of it.”

She smiles sadly. “I think that the Force wants me here, and so that’s where I’ll be, but I don’t know if I can ever really forgive the Order.” She pauses a moment, and Mace can tell she’s not sure whether or not to say what she’s thinking.

She says it, and Mace wishes she hadn’t, but he’s glad she does.

“You’re right, Mast… Mace. The blindness of the Council is partially responsible for the situation we’re in right now. Because I still believe in the Force, and because it saved what’s left of the Jedi here, I’ll help. But… ah.”

“There’s a lot we’ll have to work through,” he suggests gently.

She nods slowly, and without a word, goes to greet her Master and his brother.

Mace turns, and sees Yoda standing behind him.

“Wronged her greatly, we did. Correct, she is, about our blindness.”

“I know, Master. Believe me, I know.” Mace shakes his head in despair. “And now look at where we are, because I could not see the attachment I harbored. The attachment we all harbored. Because I was too prideful to listen to a Padawan.”

“Too prideful, still, are you?”

“No, no longer.”

A thought he’s been having since the evacuation rises to his mouth before he can stop it.

“Master Yoda, I think the Code is done for.” Yoda tilts his head, regarding Mace with old eyes. He continues.

“The Code didn’t stop us from holding an attachment that killed hundreds, _thousands_ of Jedi,” Mace chokes out. He breathes, recovers his composure.

“During the evacuation, I felt Skywalker’s fear – the fear he’s been letting fester since the day he arrived – replaced by love. Love for his wife, for Obi-wan, for the _people_ he’s gathered around him. The kind of love the Code says shouldn’t exist. That love saved him, saved me during the fight with Palpatine. I think…” – and he’s pretty aware that what he says goes contrary to centuries of Jedi philosophy – “that we should scrap the Code. Train emotion, ready them for emotion, teach them how to harness it for the good of the galaxy.”

He’s done speaking now, exhausted with the weight of responsibility and too much thinking.

“Agree with you, I do not. But, also, disagree with you, not sure that I do. On hold, training will be for some time. Focus on survival, and establishment of a rebellion, we must. Mace, think on your words carefully, I will. Perhaps a long talk with Skywalker and Kenobi, I will have. Sense, I do, that Kenobi has come to share Skywalker’s penchant for emotion. But for now, select a youngling to care for, you must.” Yoda smiles at his surprise.

“Master, I was planning on assisting the others…”

“One of our most powerful Masters, you are, and exempt from this duty, few of us should be. Already chosen my own Padawan, I have, and preparing to leave, we are. To say goodbye, I came.”

Mace sighs deeply. He wasn’t really ready for this, quite yet. The split. He’d lost so many friends, and…

Well, he didn’t know whom he’d be seeing again.

“I hope the Force brings us together again, Master Yoda.” He really doesn’t know what else to say, beyond that.

The shuttles are beginning to leave in earnest.

“May the Force be with you, Mace,” and with that, the tiny Master turns and hobbles away. A young Kel Dor peels off from the milling group of Padawans, about half strong now, and Mace must close his eyes against the memories.

_Plo, my old friend. I am sorry I failed you._

The youngling looks back at him, and waves. He can feel Yoda’s sad smile through the Force, knows the same thought entered into the Grandmaster’s mind.

And then his… his friend is gone among the crowd of Jedi, among the dust.

He sighs.

“Master Windu!”

The terrible trio has found him.

He sighs again. 

“Master, this is the last of the younglings. We thought… we thought you might want to take her.”

And in Kenobi’s arms is the little youngling who had so much faith in her Jedi caretaker and _yes_ Mace does want her, he doesn’t know why, but he wants her, and while he makes a show of growling at Kenobi, he practically screams his happiness to the Force.

He takes her, and Kenobi gives that slight grin he’s known for, and Mace knows he’s fooled exactly no one. He sighs, and the sleeping child shifts slightly.

“Can you fit her in your fighter?” Ahsoka asks.

“Yes, she’s small. I don’t believe I’ll be going far.”

“Where?”

Mace smiles.

“Home. Haruun Kal is not far. I know the jungle, am at home there. The War moved on some time ago. She can learn survival skills there, and the planet has enough wilderness we will never be found if we don’t want to be. What about the you three?”

“Four,” Padmé’s voice says. She walks up behind the trio. “We’ll stay together for now, at least till the twins are born. Obi-Wan and Anakin can train them, and Ahsoka can help while she’s finishing her training too.”

“Five Force-sensitives, three of them trained. You may attract unwanted attention,” Mace warns.

“Then it’s a good thing I can shoot a blaster straighter than any clone.” Padmé smiles pleasantly, and Mace is reminded of… well, something beautiful and deadly, he’s not sure what.

He looks at Padmé's belly and a flash of a red-haired woman wielding blue and red lightsabers runs through his mind. A Wookie and a ship that’s seen better days, a black vest that’s ragged from overuse.

Mace shakes his head. Not the time for prophetic visions.

“Where will you go?” he asks, again looking down at his new – Padawan seems like the wrong word – companion.

“Towards the Unknown Regions, I think,” Obi-Wan answers quietly. “You’re right, we may attract too much attention. There’s a forested moon somewhere I read about, out of the way. At least until the twins are born, and the rebellion gets started. I’m sure our politician here will want to be involved with that.”

“I’ll have to be, if you want to talk to Bail or Mon, or have any organization whatsoever,” she throws back.

Mace chuckles again. He really does find her funny, and is growing used to hearing himself laugh. Not a bad feeling. He hopes he’ll see her again soon, and says as much.

Or tries to, but he’s interrupted by a rupture in the Force that signifies their respite is over. The remaining Jedi on the planet, fewer than fifty, feel the ships exit hyperspace on the opposite side of the planet, and they all lend each other strength and courage through the Force. 

“Time to leave,” Obi-Wan comments, as calmly as if he were saying “it’s hot outside.” Mace only has time for a quick “May the Force be with you” before they’ve vanished into their fighters, Amidala is on a shuttle, and his purple fighter is already warm. The child, now awake but (thankfully) not crying, holds on tighter. He sends a quick calming thought through the Force, picks up her name and a few details in the brief brush of minds.

“Be at ease, little Nasah.” Her dark eyes, set in a brown face, smile up at him, and he feels, once more, her utter trust. She’s barely three and seems to understand the Force better than he does. The Force will provide, she says.

Yes, yes it will. His fighter powers up, and for the second time in as many days, Mace Windu races up out of an atmosphere, seeking escape.

He finds it, feels that, amazingly, the remaining ships and Jedi _all_ made it out; the Team is nearly unstoppable, even now, and he feels Skywalker’s love-powered fusion reactor power up once more, this time augmented by Kenobi’s cool skill and moderated passion.

(The other story the entire Imperial Pilot Corps knows is the one about a yellow fighter and a red fighter obliterating a _Venator_ -class Star Destroyer with the Force and four blaster cannons)

Nasah grins up at him as the little fighter blasts into hyperspace.

This is Mace Windu, fugitive, but not alone, not lost, and... new parent. 


	3. Interlude I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shadow's consideration of failed and successful plots.

_The shadow’s head really hurt from the damned traitor’s lightsaber hilt. It also hurt from what was the complete and utter ruination of a plan centuries in the making._

_His master always called him over-dramatic, but then, that was the price of politics._

_In reality, he knew his plan had gone extraordinarily well. The Jedi, in the course of a single day, had lost their Temple, many of their records and treasures, and by his count, nearly ninety percent of their number._

_By all accounts, a successful day._

_But the golden prize had escaped his grasp, and he still wasn’t sure how. He didn’t understand how his decade and a half of careful, oh so_ careful _work had gone to waste in a single instant._

_Skywalker had eluded him, and left him a headache, and he wasn’t happy about it._

_He sighed. No point worrying about something in the past. Not even he could change that. Not even Revan or Bane or Naga Sadow could change that._

_The future, however, was still mutable. Backup plans could be made and executed. They would be._

_He had his cadre of Dark Siders, carefully picked, carefully trained, and even more carefully, kept separate from each other. He knew the remaining Jedi would split, thinking it was easier to hide from his Force sense. They were right, but he had plenty of Hunters. A thousand Jedi split from each other, some with younglings, couldn’t hide forever._

_A hand stretched out and keyed a secret message into the comm, activating all the Hunters. They had waited and trained for this. They knew how to catch Jedi._

_The shadow leaned back in the chair. This wasn’t a problem._

_Plus, there were still millions of clones. With the CIS defeated and shut down (unfortunate, that the shields on the Mustafar complex had suddenly and catastrophically failed) the clones really had nothing better to do but hunt and bring new systems in line, into the Republic._

_No, the Republic would never do. Too… democratic._

_The Empire. Yes, that had a ring to it. He liked the way “Emperor Palpatine” rolled off the tongue. He’d speak to the Senate tomorrow, explain the assassination attempt and subsequent treachery of the entire Order, and the bureaucratic fools would be eating out of his wrinkled hands. All was still in place. The clones and Hunters would begin bringing in Jedi for indoctrination or execution soon enough. He’d enjoy that, especially when…_

_Well, he was more powerful than Skywalker, after all. He’d beaten Yoda. Kenobi was merely a boy in front of him. He’d lost to Mace only after killing three other Masters. Excusable._

_When they were all dead, there would be none left to oppose him. Organa and Mothma, Bel Iblis, nothing. The Senate, nothing. Anyone, anything, nothing._

_He had a vision of a boy, a possible future, the words “overconfidence is a weakness” in his ears, but he brushed the vision aside. He was Emperor now, his right by cunning and force. He had nothing to fear. The Dark Side served him, and him alone._

_A girl repeated the same words in a new vision. "Overconfidence is_ your _weakness, Your Highness," a smirk in her desert-fired brown eyes._

_He shook his head angrily. Skywalker must have hit him harder than he thought._


	4. Interlude II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thanks to u/Righteous Ham for the tips on the new Code.

_Peace within emotion._

_Knowledge within ignorance._

_Passion within serenity._

_Chaos within harmony._

_Life within death, and death within life._

_Balance within the Force._


	5. never on my own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> one year out

“You’re sure the two of you are okay with this?”

Mace nods grumpily, and Yoda inclines his grizzled head in the affirmative.

“Worked on the new Code for a year, we have, since the Scattering. Risked much to meet this often, we have. Soon will I hit you with my staff, if foolish you continue to be.”

The Chosen One laughs heartily, and Mace thinks that’s all the confirmation he needs that the right thing is being done. Skywalker has found his place in the freedom of restriction. They are all tired, scared, and constantly moving. The Hunters have caught three Jedi in the last year.

But Skywalker is at peace. His new family is safe. His brother is safe. He has learned, alongside those he cares most about, to use his emotions in service of the Living Force. Mace admits to himself that he’s at peace, too.

Mace hears a quiet chuckle from an empty corner of the room and rolls his inner eye at Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan smiles that gentle smile of his, and Mace knows the Great Negotiator heard it too. Qui-Gon’s spirit has been a constant companion the past year once Yoda taught them all how to speak to him, imparting wisdom and level-headedness to some conversations that desperately needed them during the construction of the New Code.

“Okay, then I’m sending it. Mass commblast to every member of the Remnant. We’ve still received no clues that the Empire has cracked it, even knows we’re transmitting?”

Mace shakes his head.

“Nothing from the Senators, or any other contacts. We need comms. Until we think otherwise, we keep transmitting.”

Everyone knows that with every Jedi captured, the chances of their comms being hijacked increase drastically. They don’t think about it until they have to.

Shaak Ti and Ahsoka rise from the carved table. Quinlan Vos and Luminara Unduli lean back in their chairs, and Mace wordlessly refills their cups.

 _Let me introduce you to the Remnant Council_ , Mace chuckles to himself. _We’ve got a spirit on it._

 _I heard that_ , Qui-Gon says.

“Quinlan, how are things?”

The Kiffar gives Mace a strange look, as if to say, “how do you think they’re going?”

Then he says that exact thing, and Mace shrugs.

“Before you all leave, we need to talk about your favorite thing.”

Alongside her husband, Padmé has flourished in exile. After giving birth to what Mace understands are very active twins for just under a year old, she’s almost single-handedly planned out the political rise of the Rebellion, which Mace has started capitalizing in his head. Anakin assures him this is necessary. Contacts have arisen from seemingly nowhere, money has begun to move in from Force only knows, and she’s even secured them the modest beginnings of an _actual fleet_.

Mace Windu, former Grandmaster of the Jedi Order, Fugitive Leader of the Jedi Remnant (Anakin assures him these capitalizations, too, are necessary) is not easily impressed.

Padmé Amidala has impressed Mace Windu time and time again.

She sits down, and almost automatically, Anakin holds out his arms for Leia and Padmé passes Luke off to Obi-Wan. The man loves his brother’s children, and Mace had no doubt he would become Uncle Obi-Wan as soon as the children could speak.

“Most of the basic infrastructure Bail, Mon, and I think we’ll need is in place. We can hold off on it for about another year. We need to decide when to start taking action though. Too soon, and we fizzle out – not enough outrage. Too late, and we start losing funding and contacts who get scared off by our inaction.”

“We do have the Antar Atrocity to work with. Resistant media’s already named it for us.”

“Uncomfortable, I am, with utilizing such horrors for politics. Understand the necessity, I do.”

Padmé nods in sympathy, and the nods are echoed around the table. Yoda has expressed his discomfort repeatedly, but there’s not much choice.

Shaak speaks up a moment before Mace does.

“Within the month. We’ve had the Declaration ready for some time. Make final revisions. Mon, Bail, and Garm, along with the other dissenting senators, will be ousted soon. We need them, we need them out. No reason to wait. The Remnant wants friends, and something more to do. Soon.”

Slowly, the rest of the council nods.

Padmé takes a deep breath, then nods back.

“I’ll put in motion the propaganda campaign. Madine’s men will start the extraction process for the Senators. They don’t think the Senate will last much longer anyway. Seems the survival of so many Jedi made Palpatine rush his own plans. His mistake, our gain.” Padmé’s smile reminds Mace of a similar smile she gave a year ago. He knows, now. She’s a predator, plain and simple. Loyal to her own pack, using words and politics as her claws and teeth.

“Well, then, friends. If that’s all, I’ll leave you to your duties. If I’m not mistaken, my little companion is awake from her nap.”

Mace rises, hears a gasp, and a smile runs to the faces of each being seated at the table.

“Nasah, did you want to say hello to everyone?”

Everyone at the table knows she nods, though she’s still hidden behind a door. The four-year-old pokes her head around the door, uncharacteristically shy. Mace chuckles.

“Hi ev’ryone.”

Obi-Wan smiles kindly, and Ahsoka rushes over to the little girl.

“Hey, squirt. Good nap?”

She nods again.

“Want me to take you outside for a bit? Climb some trees? I think I sense Chewbacca coming ‘round.”

She nods again, and disappears outside, holding the youngling’s hand tightly. Mace senses her shyness disappear, replaced by joy at the greenery of the forest.

Nasah has grown to love Kashyyyk, their current hiding place. Haruun Kal had been harsher than Mace remembered, changed by the War. They hadn’t stayed long before joining Yoda on Kashyyyk. The slave trade in Palpatine’s pro-human Empire had been flourishing, and Wookies were prime slaves. Mace had taken… issue with this. Skywalker had too, understandably, and they’d made the freedom of slaves a core part of the Declaration of a Rebellion Against the Tyranny of Palpatine. Mace hates the official name of the document; it’s already become the Rebellion in his head.

“Already growing strong, she is.”

The meeting’s mostly broken up with the exit of Ahsoka and Nasah, and everyone will soon leave. So many Jedi are never on planet for long together; it’s a Risk they won’t take, especially with Skywalker’s twins. No younglings have been lost yet, most hidden in the Outer Rim or the edges of the Unknown Regions, outside the Hunters’ current reach, and Mace intends to keep it that way. A modest amount of credit flow keeps them mobile, anonymous, and safe.

“Yes. She Force-grabbed my saber the other day and had it activated before I retrieved it. I’ve already started building her a training blade, and Skywalker dropped off a remote today. How’s Kli? He stayed across planet?”

“Yes. Doing well, he is. Eager to learn. Know, you do, that soon we plan to leave. Some more help with the new training, other Caretakers need. My place here, Skywalker and Kenobi will take.”

Mace looks at the diminutive Jedi. He has enjoyed this time with Yoda, changing the meaning of what it means to be a Jedi. The old Master took much convincing, but he understood, if nothing else, the torch was no longer his to bear.

“I’ll continue your work with the slave trade. Anakin is restless, he’s eager to start running the Empire off Kashyyyk.”

“Grateful, I am, for that. If assistance you need, available, I will be. Excited to see the galaxy, Kli is, but sees this place as home, he does, and willing to help it.”

“Do you know where you will go first?”

“Received, Shaak has, reports of Hunter activity near Alderaan.” Yoda smiles, and Mace thinks that Yoda might be more willing to utilize passion in pursuit of justice than he realizes. “Ready to test Palpatine’s training of them, I am. Nearly defeated Ahsoka, Kli did, and time to test his training, it is.”

Mace did not envy the Hunters operating near Alderaan.

“Then may the Force be with you both.”

Yoda nods at him and they walk outside together. Chewbacca puts a laughing Nasah down, rumbles mournfully at her, and allows Yoda to climb up in her place. The young Wookie’s hatred for slavers was matched only by his faith in the Jedi, and he’d been an effective liason with the Wookie freedom fighters.

Mace was looking forward to fighting alongside him in the near future.

Nasah toddles over to his side as Chewbacca fires up the engines of Yoda’s ship, waving goodbye with the temporary sadness only a youngling can experience.

She is back to her normal self moments after the afterglow of the thrusters disappears over the trees.

“Massa, can I learn today? ‘Soka said… she said I can move tings soon, I wanna learn to move tings!”

Mace Windu, pensive for another moment, smiles blindingly at his… _daughter_ , she’s not a Padawan, not a youngling, she never was, she’s always been his not-blood daughter. He knows other new Caretakers feel the same. Things changed, in the Scattering. They’re all family, fighting for survival, on the brink of revolution.

He smiles at her, and they go inside to learn things.

He thinks to himself, not for the first time in the past year, that between Nasah and the Skywalker twins, part of a horde of passionate, exiled Sons and Daughters of the Force, screaming and fighting for justice, and The Team…

Palpatine will rue the day he left any of them alive.

(He doesn’t know that Palpatine is worried about that, too)

“Yes, Nasah. We can learn today. We’ve got lots of days to learn. What do you want to learn tomorrow?”

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews, kudos, shares, anything you like.


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